e bedpost.

The minute Seinwill saw me, he ran to meet me in a shamefaced way, like
a sinner caught in the act; and before I was able to say a word, that
is, tell him angrily and with decision that he must give me my book
finished or not--never mind about the twenty kopeks, and so on--and thus
revenge myself on him, he began to answer, and he showed me that my book
was done, it was already in the press, and there only remained the
lettering to be done on the back. Just a few minutes more, and he would
bring it to my house.

"No, I will wait and take it myself," I said, rather vexed.

Besides, I knew that to stamp a few letters on a book-cover could not
take more than a few minutes at most.

"Well, if you are so good as to wait, it will not take long. There is a
fire in the oven, I have only just got to heat the screw."

And so saying, he placed a chair for me, dusted it with the flap of his
coat, and I sat down to wait. Seinwill really took my book out of the
press quite finished except for the lettering on the cover, and began to
hurry. Now he is by the oven--from the oven to the corner--and once more
to the oven and back to the corner--and so on ten times over, saying to
me every time:

"There, directly, directly, in another minute," and back once more
across the room.

So it went on for about ten minutes, and I began to take quite an
interest in this running of his from one place to another, with empty
hands, and doing nothing but repeat "Directly, directly, this minute!"

Most of all I wonder why he keeps on looking into the corner--he never
takes his eyes off that corner. What is he looking for, what does he
expect to see there? I watch his face growing sadder--he must be
suffering from something or other--and all the while he talks to
himself, "Directly, directly, in one little minute." He turns to me: "I
must ask you to wait a little longer. It will be very soon now--in
another minute's time. Just because we want it so badly, you'd think
she'd rather burst," he said, and he went back to the corner, stooped,
and looked into it.

"What are you looking for there every minute?" I ask him.

"Nothing. But directly--Take my advice: why should you sit there
waiting? I will bring the book to you myself. When one wants her to, she
won't!"

"All right, it's Friday, so I need not hurry. Why should you have the
trouble, as I am already here?" I reply, and ask him who is the "she who
won't."

"You see, my wife,